


The Wonder And Light That Was Katsuki Yuuri

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Study, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13638381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: Viktor was tired, uninspired. When Yuuri came into his life like a whirlwind, he was gone just as quickly, leaving Viktor heartbroken. The tattoo on his skin identified Yuuri as his soulmate, so why didn't his soulmate contact him?





	The Wonder And Light That Was Katsuki Yuuri

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a little Valentine's Day fic for my friend, who patiently helps me during our ice skating classes when I just can't wrap my head around what our teacher wants us to do. Thank you ♥

Viktor could still see the flashes before his eyes, hear the chatter of the photographers, the chorus of “Mr. Nikiforov! Here, look here!”. His cheeks still hurt from the constant smiling, the fake face he had to put up, the facade, the farce of a man. Of a legend. Shouldn’t he be happy? Shouldn’t he be absolutely elated? His fifth gold medal! That was incredible! 

Yet. 

Yet.

Yet nothing. 

He felt nothing but disdain, emptiness, loneliness. Not even the words on his skin could ease the sharp pain in his heart. 

Stupid soulmate tattoos. Stupid first words your soulmate would say to you. 

Yes, Viktor loved the idea that somewhere out there was someone who would love him wholly and for all eternity, but… he was a legendary athlete. The words  _ Oh my God, you’re Viktor Nikiforov!  _ were spoken often, especially while he was walking Makkachin in St. Petersburg. 

Makkachin. 

He missed his dog, now more than ever. Sure, Sochi was still in Russia, but he wouldn’t see her again until the next evening. 

Viktor sighed and idly traced the words inked into the skin of his hip with gentle fingertips. He wished it could’ve been easy. Just for once in his life, he wished something would’ve been easy. JJ, for example, had  _ Hi, I’m Isabella _ on his wrist, while Isabella had  _ Hi, I’m JJ _ . Even something more distinct would be nice. Yuri’s  _ Are you getting on or not?  _ is at least easy to spot when it’s the first thing directed to someone. An odd thing to say, but maybe Yuri was indecisive on whether or not he’d get on a bus. He truly was like a cat, sometimes. 

He wondered what his soulmate’s tattoo said. Maybe something clever and witty, such as  _ Yes, but I am also your future husband _ but, knowing his luck in love and life, it would be more along the lines of  _ Yeah, what can I do for you?  _ which is also something a barista could ask them. 

With a deep sigh, Viktor stripped off his clothes and got ready for the shower. He had to meet Yuri, Georgi and Yakov in two hours for the banquet. Smile, be friendly, be charming, enchant the people with who they think you are - he liked parties, but he was in an odd mood where he’d rather curl up in bed and finish reading his book. He’d get to see Chris, though, something he always cherished. Chris and his boyfriend, who was his soulmate. They complemented each other in a way that made Viktor feel envious as well as elated at the same time. He longed for a connection like that. 

Even if he found his soulmate, that wouldn’t mean they’d share such a love story. Yakov and Lilia were soulmates but their relationship was on the rapid decline. In the end, a soulmate was just another person, someone who changed and grew. If you met them at the wrong point in life, chances were you wouldn’t fit together. But that was something Viktor tried not to dwell on. He was 26 now, surely he wouldn’t change much anymore. Maybe after his retirement. So maybe, just maybe, he’d meet his soulmate then. He could go to uni. Study… Russian Literature, Interior Design, Architecture or maybe International Economics. Maybe he’d become a coach and fall in love with his — no, students were too young, that would be creepy. Maybe he’d find his soulmate walking Makkachin! Yes, that was likely. He’d retire and take a whole year off (or, as off as he could. Viktor doubted he’d stay away from the unforgiving ice entirely) and lounge around in St. Petersburg, would take Makkachin on long walks through all the parks and along the waterfront. They could try out all the cute cafes until he’d found his personal favourite. He’d go there once a week for breakfast, Makkachin at his feet while Viktor had a book in his hands. The barista would greet him by name. Maybe they’d be his soulmate. 

Of course! 

Yes, that would make sense! 

Maybe they - he, probably, definitely - maybe he would be a foreign student. Studying… Sports Management. He’d be in St. Petersburg for his PhD about… the European Union and how it changed the Olympic Games. His soulmate tattoo would be in Russian, which is why he learned the language and chose to study there. And then Viktor would saunter into the café where he worked and he’d exclaim  _ Oh God, you are Viktor Nikiforov!  _ and Viktor would laugh and say  _ And this is my trusted friend, Makkachin _ and point at the dog at his heels. The love of his life would laugh and maybe roll up his sleeve to show the tattoo with those exact words. 

Ah but there was one problem: Viktor’s soulmate tattoo was in English. Well, maybe his Russian-speaking-but-from-England-coming-soulmate was so shocked at seeing a five time (maybe then seven time?) gold medal winner in the café that he’d speak English. 

With that idea in mind, a possible future just out of reach but so clearly visible, Viktor finally took his much overdue shower before he made himself comfortable on the bed to look at the performances of the day. 

Chris, sexy as ever. His performances always made a lot of fun. They were well-executed and a joy to watch. Then there was JJ. Obnoxious, annoying, but a child, so Viktor could forgive him for his attitude. Cao Bin was of no concern anymore and the male half of the Crispino twins was just… fucking creepy. 

Then there was Yuuri Katsuki. Certainly a fan of Viktor, if his skating style was to be trusted. Amazing season until… until that flub. Viktor had wanted to break the ice with his request for a photo together, maybe squeeze Katsuki’s hand and wish him good luck for the future. Well, that hadn’t gone down well. No point dwelling on that one, though. 

Viktor checked himself over in the mirror once he was all dressed up nicely. Another twenty minutes before he met with his coach and fellow skaters. He looked good, he always did. Hair shiny and soft, smile fixed in place: he was ready for the public. His gaze quickly flickered towards his book on the nightstand, bookmark promently poking out between its pages. If he were less… less  _ him _ he could maybe skip the banquet altogether. But everyone would miss Viktor Nikiforov. Everyone’s eyes were always on him. He doubted any of the other skaters would come seek him out though. Maybe Chris would, but Chris was his friend first and foremost. Yes, he was another skater, but they’d long reached a sort-of truce about their careers and podium places. Chris knew Viktor was a different league altogether. He didn’t hold it against him, like so many others. He still shone bright and mighty. In another life, Viktor would’ve wished for Chris as his soulmate. 

The banquet was full of sponsors, pulling him aside, shoving business cards at him. Maybe he’d consider? Maybe maybe maybe. Maybe Viktor would just retire, get out of this mess, get out of his head and find something other than skating. Something that once more made his heart beat quicker. He could take up knitting but he doubted the thrill of adrenaline was comparable to ice skating. Maybe scuba diving? Swimming with sharks. Ah, but Viktor couldn’t swim. Rollerblading ? No. He tried that once, with 14, on a date with a cute boy whose name he couldn’t remember anymore. Twisted his knee, blamed it on a growth spurt because he didn’t want Yakov to find out that he was dating someone. So rollerblading was not an option either. He could become a writer. Ah, but he was lacking inspiration to create two simple programs, how would he ever be able to be inspired enough to write an entire book? 

Viktor shoved that problem aside for another day, focusing on the sponsors once more. They’d all leave soon, at the official end of the banquet. Most skaters stayed later, mingling with each other. He saw the male Crispino twin hovering around his sister, who was talking to Mila, throwing her head back to laugh at something the redhead had said. JJ stood arm in arm with his Isabella, talking to someone Viktor didn’t recognise. Yakov seemed to be trying to keep Yuri away from the champagne while Japanese Yuuri downed the second flute - not that Viktor kept tabs, but he had looked at him for maybe thirteen seconds during which the skater had drunk the flutes at an impressive speed. Furrowing his brows, Viktor looked around for Yuuri’s coach, but couldn’t make him out. Ah, well. Not his problem. Though he had to admit: watching Katsuki stumble around was kind of fun. Especially once he challenged Yuri to a dance-off. Viktor couldn’t contain his laughter anymore, feeling light for the first time in _months_. The gleeful smile on Yuuri’s face, clashing with the scorn Yuri wore, was too much. Leaning against Chris a little, Viktor pulled out his phone and took videos and photos, all the while laughing and cheering them both on. It was only when Katsuki had won his competition and shifted his gaze that Viktor stopped laughing. Being the sole focus of Katsuki Yuuri’s attention, his - albeit drunk - stare, was intoxicating, exhilarating, addictive. Viktor wanted to drown in these eyes, wanted to commemorate the warm brown, soft as the morning’s first rays. He needed to commit this to memory lest he lost all of it in a second. But the moments stretched on, a drunk Yuuri walking towards Viktor with determination in his unsure steps. 

“Oh my God, you’re Viktor Nikiforov! Dance with me!” Yuuri made grabby hands towards him, unaware that the entire world had just shifted underneath and around them. 

Was… could it be? Katsuki Yuuri? Sure, he’d brought Viktor more joy that one evening than anything else had over the past months. Okay. Say he accepted it, say he believed it - he needed a damn good answer to make it perfectly clear that he was indeed Yuuri’s soulmate. 

So Viktor smiled softly and took Yuuri’s hand in his, squeezing it. “It would be my joy and honour to dance with someone whose footwork is as incredible as yours.” 

Yuuri laughed and pulled Viktor closer, but there wasn’t the flicker of understanding he’d hoped for. No exclamations of how they were soulmates. So maybe Viktor was mistaken - again. He couldn’t be too upset about it though, not when Yuuri was whirling him around, dipping him, looking positively glowing. He was beautiful. Viktor had never seen anything more enchanting than Katsuki Yuuri that evening. He hadn’t been this happy, this high on energy since… since ever, probably. No, he was certain, he’d never felt what he’d felt that fateful evening. It was mutual, for sure. Chris had assured him of it. No one looked at someone like Yuuri had looked at Viktor without having some sort of more-than-platonic feelings. 

The entire evening, Viktor had felt more alive than he had in years. Yuuri’s goofy nature, his competitive spirit and his tendency to be feisty had totally entranced him. Of course, not to mention his body. Oh, and what a body Yuuri had! Viktor was close to begging for these thighs to choke him. He wanted to do body shots off those abs, run his hands through the silky hair and simply gaze into Yuuri’s honeyed eyes. He was a goner for Katsuki Yuuri and Viktor had accepted his fate within two minutes of properly meeting the Japanese skater. And when Yuuri had asked him to come to Hasetsu, to be his coach… Viktor’s world had shifted a second time that evening. Maybe that would be his Out, the end to all his worries. 

They hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, but Viktor was certain Yuuri would contact him soon. He’d said so himself, that night. 

Once back at his flat, Viktor was a bit baffled by the lack of texts from Yuuri. He’d received a total of none at all. Maybe he was on his way back to Detroit, which surely took him longer than it had taken Viktor to go home. So he didn’t think much of it. Instead, he took a long walk with Makkachin, followed by an extensive play session, a hot bath to relax Viktor’s muscles and then some cuddling on the sofa. While Makkachin was an excellent cuddle-buddy, Viktor longed for the slim and firm body of Yuuri to be draped over his own body. Makkachin’s fur was a poor substitute for his soulmate’s hair, the dog’s warmth a steady reminder that something was missing. As time went on, as more days without a sign passed, Viktor went head-first into practice. He’d skate for Yuuri, because Yuuri would watch, would congratulate him. 

He would. 

Wouldn’t he?

Was it possible that soulmates weren’t each other’s soulmates? Maybe Yuuri was his but Yuuri’s was Phichit. Viktor had taken to stalking the Thai’s numerous social media accounts after tracking Yuuri on his and coming up blank. He wasn’t the most avid user, hardly ever posted selfies or anything really personal. Deep down on his Instagram feed, Viktor had found the photo of Yuuri and Phichit, captioned with  _ The Bestie and I on a well-deserved short trip _ . The post had led Viktor to look up Phichit, delighted in his obsessive coverage. There were more photos of Yuuri during the last three months of Phichit’s Instagram than during the last three years on Yuuri’s. Obviously, Viktor had followed both on their social media accounts. But his finger kept hovering over the Like-Button, always daring, never doing. 

Instead, Viktor read everything he could on the theory of soulmates. 

Yes, there were platonic soulmates who had a different romantic partner. So he and Yuuri could very well still be romantically involved, if Phichit were Yuuri’s platonic soulmate. 

No, finding your soulmate wasn’t the guarantee for everything working out immediately or at all. Some soulmates rejected their respective half because they believed in free choice and saw the system too constricting. Maybe Yuuri was one of these people? Chris had been like that, before he’d met his soulmate. So maybe Yuuri was still torn, trying to reconcile his own notions of freedom with his newly found soulmate. A soulmate whom he admired, nonetheless. 

After obsessively looking for every scrap there was on Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor had concluded that he must certainly be an even more devoted fan than previously anticipated. There wasn’t all that much personal information. Until mid-February, Viktor had painstakingly translated every article he could find. Or rather: had run it through Google Translator and then had it translated into English, French and Russian to piece together something that made sense. Hasetsu seemed to be a private little town, as no one had ever said anything personal about Yuuri, only ever how much they admired him, how proud they all were. There was much on Yuuri’s time in Detroit, after Phichit had arrived. They seemed to have gone on a road trip during the last off-season, something which made both boys look incredibly happy in all the photos. Phichit seemed a good influence, always gushing about Yuuri on a very personal level, suggesting they were very close and extremely important to each other. 

It must be nice, Viktor thought, to have such an incredible support system. 

One thing, one of the very few personal things Viktor had managed to find out, had come from an interview with Seung-Gil Lee of all people. He’d stumbled upon it through a translation. Seung-Gil had been asked to say something positive about each Asian skater which didn’t relay to their skating. Apparently he liked that Yuuri liked dogs. After some more googling, it became apparent that Yuuri had a dog himself. Viktor rejoiced at the fact of having something in common with Yuuri. He’d hugged Makkachin tight, pressing a kiss to the top of the dog’s head, too overcome with emotions to contain them anymore. 

But came mid-March, Viktor still hadn’t heard from Yuuri. He felt heartbroken, toyed with, tossed aside. Skating kept him afloat but only just. He wanted nothing more than rip out his heart and run it over with the Zamboni. Chris called him a Drama Queen when he’d relayed this desire to his best friend. 

The situation at the rink wasn’t much better. Yakov and Lilia were about to have their divorce settled officially, Georgi had broken up with his long-time girlfriend (well, she with him. For a Hockey player!), Yuri was at the height of his puberty and Mila… Mila was actually behaving fairly normal, even if she was glued to her phone more than not these days. Around Viktor, it felt as if everything was falling apart. Love was worth nothing anymore, not the romantic kind, not the platonic kind. He rather spent his evenings curled up with Makkachin on the sofa, working on new programs and watching skating videos. Yuuri had impeccable footwork - maybe Viktor should consider upping his step sequence game. 

It was on one of these evenings when his phone flashed with a message: an abundance of exclamation marks, followed by a link, courtesy of one Christophe Giacometti. Clicking on the link, Viktor furrowed his brows. Yuuri’s left leg was a little sloppy sometimes, the quad wasn’t a quad, but altogether… this was the sign. The sign Viktor had been waiting for. Yuuri was reaching out in the most romantic way he possibly could. And Viktor had a ticket booked for two days later.

Hasetsu was everything he’d hoped it would be. It was small, immediately familiar, in love with Katsuki Yuuri. People helped him find the Onsen, a word Viktor had said so many times, it was the only word he could say in Japanese without much of an accent. 

He was tired when he arrived. Makkachin was tired. And Yuuri wasn’t even there! But Yuuri’s parents were and he introduced himself with shaky Japanese and a beaming smile. They called him  _ Vicchan _ and something in his chest tightened and expanded at the same time. They ushered him into the hot water while preparing his room and taking care of Makkachin. For the first time in possibly a year, Viktor allowed himself to fully relax. Close his eyes, soak in the spring while he made a plan on how to greet Yuuri upon their meeting. A kiss? Too forward, if his parents were present. A handshake? Too awkward for everyone involved. A hug? Yes, that could work. Neutral territory but still everything Viktor would want. 

His plan was thrown out of the window the second Yuuri stepped through the door. On impulse, Viktor stood up, extending his hand in order to show Yuuri why he was here. He knew fully well that everything was on display - including his soulmate tattoo. It was an invitation, a cry for recognition. See me, the voice in Viktor’s mind yelled, see me and love me and hold me and let me be whatever you want me to be, but keep me in your life! 

Viktor didn’t understand Yuuri’s reluctance, couldn’t categorise his hesitation. But he still slowed down, took deep breaths and promised to himself that he’d win Yuuri’s heart anew. 

It was during a bath at the Onsen that Viktor saw. He was holding Yuuri’s leg, to show him the correct form he could adopt on the ice. It was when he ran his hand gently down his calf that Viktor spotted it: in his own neat handwriting, along Yuuri’s ankle (if he were to wear sneakers and cropped jeans, Viktor mused, he could show it off always) were three simple words -  _ a commemorative photo?.  _ Viktor traced the letters delicately with his thumb, wishing he could trace them with his tongue instead. He felt Yuuri shiver beneath his hands. 

“So you know now,” Yuuri said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Viktor gently lowered his leg and turned to face Yuuri - his soulmate (!!!). “Why would you be sorry?”

“Surely you don’t want to spend your time with someone who has an unrequited soulmate tattoo which indicates that you’re my soulmate. That must be… awkward.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor cooed. 

He gently took his hand and placed it over his hip, right onto his tattoo. 

“I know these words are said by many people and I have heard them countless times, but they only had meaning when you spoke them. So don’t doubt for a second that you are my soulmate, too. I knew since Sochi and I thought… I didn’t stop to think and realise that what I answered weren’t the first words I had ever spoken to you. I must apologise, my Yuuri, for mistreating you and misunderstanding your reactions. I had thought that my tattoo was unrequited.”

“When…” Yuuri cleared his throat and dropped his gaze onto the hand splayed over Viktor’s hip. “When did I ever say these words?”

“You… oh.  _ Oh.  _ You weren’t embarrassed? Or figuring out how to deal with it? You were… not remembering. Yuuri, this conversation demands for us to be dressed and having a cup of tea! Maybe a walk with Makkachin along the beach?”

“I… okay?”

It was an hour later that they were sat at the beach, Makkachin happily jumping around them, chasing waves. Hiroko had given them travel mugs for their tea, which both men were now holding onto. They sat in silence, but Viktor knew better than to interrupt it. Yuuri had to gather his thoughts. He was fragile like that. If Viktor didn’t know, if he had no clue that Yuuri didn’t remember, he’d prattle on, an infinitive chatterbox, just to fill the silence and hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d say something that would spark a reaction out of Yuuri. But he knew, so he stayed silent. 

“The… the banquet?” Yuuri asked hesitantly after a while. “I only remember CiaoCiao dragging me down there despite my protests. I drank. I woke up. I don’t remember what happened in between. I assumed my coach must’ve taken me up to my room when he saw that it was getting out of hand.”

Viktor gave him more time to process the new truth Yuuri had just discovered, before: “You asked Yurio to a dance-off, which you won. We danced. You… you pole-danced with Chris.”

“I what now? Where… how…” Yuuri made a high-pitched, embarrassed sound at the back of his throat and dropped his head with a groan. 

“Sudden pole acquisition? I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you enchanted me, Yuuri. And I thought… you didn’t contact me again.”

“Why didn’t you?” 

“You said you’d let me know when would be a good time to come visit you in Hasetsu so that I could see the cherry trees. I didn’t want to… I know I’m… I can be… too much. I…”

“Vitya,” Yuuri whispered. He looked up at Viktor with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “You are not too much. You are much, but never too much. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be yours. I just need… time.”

“All the time in the world, my Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled softly and then giggled. “So, soulmates, huh?”

“Soulmates indeed,” Viktor confirmed with a sure nod. 

“Phichit is gonna flip his shit.”

At that, Viktor couldn’t help but laugh. No matter how much time Yuuri needed, no matter how long he had to wait for a first kiss, no matter no matter no matter - he was already half in love and would wait an eternity for the wonder and light that was Katsuki Yuuri.


End file.
